Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter 40: The Question Unanswered

Shooting magic out of my fingers was a high-cost low-yield weapon under current circumstances. I had been able to subdue a whole room full of witches and wolves when Maeve burned my back, but now I was barely keeping Nick on his knees. I had been in considerably more pain from the burns than the bite on my neck I was now using to fuel my magic.

Not to mention, at the moment, I was little bit distracted by Evander, lying dead—actually dead—on the floor. His eyes were open, and they were not glittery but glassy and blank.

"Yiiiiiiyyaaaaaaaoowwwww!" I screamed and threw all of my devastation into one giant burst of magical fuck-you. 

Nick flew backwards and busted through the brass railing on both sides of the room, crashing into the tables on the opposite upper level.

For one moment, everything was still. I stood over Evander's body—his entirely lifeless body. This wasn't a torpor. This was death.

How could he be dead?

A long, whining squeal from somewhere outside cut the quiet. An animal in pain. No, not an animal. A wolf.

A wolf changing? Or a wolf being dismembered by Darrow?

Yips, growls—canine and feline—then shouts and gunfire.

And still, I stood, staring at Evander's lifeless body, giving only the briefest glance at Nick's slumped form across the room.

Shock, I thought. I'm going into shock. Van is dead and I can't even cope.

Then, somewhere deeper in my mind, I heard a different voice. Not my inner, cynical witch. My father. The memory of his words rose clearly in my mind.

"A vampire is never more dangerous than when he's just been staked."

Of course! Because he's not really dead! A vampire can only be killed by sunlight, fire, or decapitation! Remove the stake and voila!!! Instant resurrection!

Exxxcept...that a resurrected vampire will be a really pissed-off bloodsucker and likely to tear out the throat of the nearest living creature.

But Evander wouldn't really hurt me, would he? I mean...he can't, can he? We are blood-bonded. On his end of our magical connection, I am his thrall. That means he is bound to protect me, even if I am not bound by need of his blood. Yet.

I dropped to my knees, rolled him sideways, kissed his dead lips just in case it was the last time due to an accidental beheading (mine), crawled over his stony body, braced my feet against his back, and tugged at the stake with all my might. 

It was something akin to pulling a sword from a stone.  In other words, unbudgeable.

The stake-removing difficulty had me seriously doubting that anyone but a vampire or a werewolf should have strength to stake a bloodsucker. I marveled that the stake hadn't splintered on contact with Van. 

But in magic, intent is everything. Stakes don't splinter and witches are able to focus their magic and stake vampires just as easily as werewolves. It's just one of those awesome fucking things we can do.  

Funny, though, that no one ever talks about the unstaking. Now I know why. Because, apparently, the unstaking is a bitch.

I tugged and tugged and yelled at Evander while a supernatural gunfight raged outside.

"Help me goddammit! Soften up!" I screamed at his inert form.

He didn't help because he was mostly dead, but eventually, the stake began to wiggle a bit. I put all the remaining magic I had into weaving an unbreakable grip on the wood, and I screamed as I pushed with my legs against his back. All my magic and all my might was just enough. The stake gave way.